Red
by Agent420
Summary: Sasuke wants to be beautiful. Vaguely ItaSasu, incredibly disturbing.


_**Author's Note:** My first ever ItaSasu fic.Vaguely influenced by "Silence of the Lambs". And by that I mean VAGUELY._

_I unwittingly created a motif with the stuffed giraffe. It might show up in any future Sasuke fics I write._

"You look beautiful."

Sasuke curled his little fingers round the frame of his parents' bedroom door, watching his mother blush and giggle as her husband kissed her face, her freshly painted lips poinsetta-red against the milk of her skin. He clutched his stuffed giraffe and felt a rush of childish delight at the scene, which in retrospect stood alone as the sole time the child had ever seen his parents kiss. He watched how his father's hands pressed softly about Mikoto's perfect waist, how he bent her slightly to steal that one kiss, that tiny gesture that for a man so cold meant so much.

_You look beautiful_. Sasuke knew why. He always thought his mother looked beautiful, but his father never seemed to notice, save for the rare occasion on which Mikoto styled her inky hair and ornamented her face with makeup. The red lipstick transformed her from beautiful to indescribably radiant, and Sasuke could understand why she put it on so infrequently – so that she would stand out, and Fugaku would notice her.

Sasuke understood because he felt the same way. Every day he was the same old Sasuke, trailing along in the wide shadow of his brother's wings, a mere sliver of a thing against the elder Uchiha's prestige. Itachi was noticed because he was different, he was special. Sasuke wanted to be special too.

That's why he waited until his parents left for their anniversary meal, having left Itachi to care for Sasuke (which to Itachi that meant locking himself in his room to study and keeping an ear out for any loud noises), and tiptoed down the hall to his parents' bedroom, stuffed giraffe in tow. He edged over to his mother's vanity and hoisted himself onto the stool, careful to check the doorway as if by some bizarre instance Itachi decided to abandon his studies and check on him.

Satisfied that his brother was nowhere in sight, Sasuke placed his giraffe snugly in his lap and snatched the tube of red lipstick from where it lay reverantly among Mikoto's other miscellaneous beauty products. He popped off the lid and rolled it up, and spent a moment just admiring its perfection, crushing down the urge to scrawl a mural all over the walls. Brow furrowed in determination, he gazed hard at the mirror and began to rub the makeup over his pouty little mouth, careful to reach every curve and contour of his lips. He remembered how his mother would pucker her lips and make a smacking sound every time she put it on, so he made sure to do so before smearing on a second coat. He smacked his lips again for good measure, then replaced the cap and set the lipstick carefully back on the desk before sitting back and admiring his work. He tilted his head in every angle, admiring the way the red contrasted strongly with his white skin, making him look like a painted geisha doll.

_Just like mama, _he thought happily. He could keep it on for a while, he rationalised; after all, Itachi was studying in his room and probably wouldn't emerge for hours. He pushed himself off the stool, gathered his giraffe in his arms and pattered down the hall toward his own room as quickly and quietly as he could. He passed the washroom on the way and caught a glimpse of himself in the shower door, and felt a jolt in his chest at what he saw. His own surprise made him feel giddy.

"Sasuke?"

The little boy's heart leaped into his throat and he almost ran headlong into his brother, who stood efore him, clutching a glass of water with his eyebrow raised.

"What's that on your face?"

Sasuke felt his throat go dry, and he kneaded his soft giraffe with his hands the way he always did when he was nervous. Not only had he sneaked into his parents' bedroom, but he had touched Mama's things without asking. Surely Itachi would tell Father, and Fugaku would just disregard him Sasuke even more, thinking him a foolish little child who was unworthy of his attention, his appreciation. Sasuke felt tears begin to well in his eyes, and didn't even see Itachi approach him before his brother took his forearm and steered him toward the washroom.

"Come on."

Sasuke nodded and followed, scrubbing at his eyes and dragging his giraffe behind him. He gave a whimper of protest when Itachi gently pried the stuffed animal out of his grasp, then found himself being lifted and set on the countertop. Itachi proceeded to wet a washcloth, press it against Sasuke's lips and slowly begin to remove the makeup, and the little boy kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, unable to look his big brother in the eye. Itachi was gentle and thorough, gently cupping Sasuke's cheek with his idle hand while he worked. When he spoke, it was in a low cool voice that somehow soothed some of the knots that had gathered in Sasuke's chest.

"Why are you wearing Mother's makeup, Sasuke?"

The little boy blushed furiously, gnawing at his lower lip. "…'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

"…'Cause I wanted to be beautiful."

Itachi gently gently parted Sasuke's lips with the washcloth, his own mouth tightly closed as he finished scrubbing away the last of the makeup. He flung the rag, now streaked with red, into the laundry basket before turning back toward his little brother. The child looked pitiful, eyes puffy with tears and lips swollen and stained bright pink, and Itachi shook his head.

"Idiot," he said softly. "You already are."

Sasuke hadn't bothered to wash the blood off his hands, but Orochimaru didn't mind. The snake's face merely twisted into that stretched, crooked smile, and he stroked Sasuke's cheek, telling him he was a good boy, that he would become strong, that he was his chosen one. Sasuke stared mutely forward, unmoving until his sensei dismissed him.

He wandered into his chamber for the night, and collapsed on the bed beside the ragged stuffed giraffe that lay splayed and limp on the sheets like a tattered carcass.

The man he had killed didn't die with his eyes closed. They never do. Instead the eyes stayed open and wide and Sasuke could see the white all around them, and he saw his mother and father staring back through them and felt Itachi's fingers running over his lips.

Sasuke looked up and met eyes with his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. Mechanically, he raised his arm and smeared the blood over his lips, careful to reach the corners of his mouth, and smiled blankly when he saw how a few droplets escaped and dribbled down his chin. They left little red streaks over the whiteness of his skin, and Sasuke's smile widened.

He looked beautiful.


End file.
